The Curfew

by Jesse Ball (Vintage; $15)

Ball’s fiction lies at some oscillating coördinate between Kafka and Calvino: swift, intense fables composed of equal parts wonder and dread. In previous books, the author—a poet with the mind of a cardsharp—has seemed giddy with his powers of invention, as his heroes (a mnemonist, a pamphleteer) scramble through labyrinths (a sanitarium for chronic liars, an inverted skyscraper plunging hundreds of feet underground). His new novel is sparser, more intimate, almost claustrophobic. A former violinist turned “epitaphorist” and his mute eight-year-old daughter lead a studiedly pedestrian existence in a police state. All artistic performances are banned, and it is not uncommon to see a body thrown off a bridge. One night, the father breaks curfew to meet with members of the resistance, leaving his daughter in the care of a puppeteer, with whom she stages an illegal play. What sounds precious in summary astonishes on the page; the reader is puzzled, charmed, then shattered. ♦

The league, we’ve been told for the past year, is desperate to stay out of politics. But it’s clear that some constituents are judged to be more important, more valuable, than others.

Although the N.F.L. has long banned substances such as anabolic steroids and growth hormones, the First Amendment is believed to be the only right guaranteed by the Constitution to be included on the list.